


an empty room behind a velvet rope

by MiniNephthys



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8038231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniNephthys/pseuds/MiniNephthys
Summary: After Russell succeeds in his rehabilitation, Raymond finds himself concerned.





	an empty room behind a velvet rope

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of an AU off of [Dreamsend](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8035279) which goes 'what if Russell didn't kill himself though', but you don't really need to read that to have context. The only important thing is that Raymond offered to talk to Russell after he woke up if he called.

To be honest, Raymond hadn’t thought all that much of suggesting Russell call him once the program was over.

Russell was a lonely person, who had almost no living friends or family. There was that Chris classmate of his, yeah - Russell’d been down to the apartment complex to see him more often than was really necessary. And there was his aunt, now his legal guardian, who had agreed to put him through this program in the first place for the payment she would receive. Not exactly someone he was close with.

Raymond wouldn’t call himself someone Russell was close with, either, but you know. After you fight a bunch of dream matchboxes and whatnot with somebody, you start to like them at least a little, right? Or tolerate them. Talking to him was way better than talking to nobody, in his humble opinion.

But it wasn’t a big deal. If Russell didn’t want to call him, he wouldn’t call, and they’d both move on with their lives.

It takes a few days after the collapse of Russell’s dream. Raymond’s at his desk, doing boring office work and near falling asleep - he’s always preferred the peddling part of his job, dangerous or not - when the phone rings. The lights on the phone tell him it’s a call from outside the company that’s been redirected to his office.

“Dreamsend Trade Inc., this is Raymond!” he answers with a cheeriness he doesn’t quite feel. “How can I help you?”

“It’s Russell.” The voice on the other end is one he’d recognize even without being reminded. “Is it still okay to call?”

“Sure it is! I wouldn’t have offered if I was just gonna take it back.” Raymond’s much more genuinely upbeat now. “So I heard you were the first success of the program, congrats! How’re you doing?”

There’s a long pause, before Russell says, “I feel awful.”

“Well… That’s kind of the point of the rehabilitation thing, I guess…” Some of the wind has been taken out of Raymond’s sails: that was kind of a dumb question. “But you’ll perk back up again in no time.”

“I want to die,” says Russell. He doesn’t sound like he’s been crying, but there’s a dullness to the tone that makes Raymond instantly believe him.

This definitely isn’t in his job description, not by a long shot, and it takes him a second to come up with an answer. “...Hey, kid. Do you mind meeting up somewhere?”

“Sure,” Russell says. “Where?”

It’s lucky that Russell even lives near Raymond, considering the scope of Dreamsend Trade’s activities. As it is, Raymond mentions a time (after his work hours are over, of course) and a public park, and Russell says, “Okay. I’ll be there. Bye, Raymond.”

“Bye, Russell. You take care.”

Russell doesn’t give that any acknowledgement before hanging up.

Raymond stares at the phone for a few seconds, then at his computer screen. He still has a bunch of work to do for the day, and he doesn’t think he’ll be any more productive than he was before that call came in.

So he makes a call himself.

“Dreamsend Research, Walter speaking.” Walter has never been as good as Raymond at faking cheeriness, or else he’s never seen the point.

“Hey, it’s Raymond, I’ve got a problem,” Raymond says.

Walter’s tone turns icy. “If this is about a woman, you know I’ve told you not to call me on my work phone.”

“It’s one hundred percent work related, honest!” Raymond says, before Walter can hang up. He’s done that a few times. “It’s about Russell.”

“Did he contact you after all?” Walter asks, less coldly but still not anything approaching ‘warm’ or ‘interested’.

“Yeah, he did. Aaaand he told me he was suicidal,” Raymond says, wincing a little even as he says it.

“Ah,” Walter says. “...That is the natural consequence of making someone feel so much guilt.”

“Walter, I don’t know how to deal with this, I’m not a therapist-”

“Neither am I.”

“-but we can’t just let him kill himself when we know he’s like this,” Raymond goes on, like Walter hadn’t interrupted. “You’re better at the gathering resources thing than I am, how do you help some kid you’re not related to?”

“This isn’t the type of resource that’s my specialty,” Walter says. “Further, you’d have to go through his legal guardian if you wanted to do anything for him.”

“Don’t worry about that! I can talk his aunt into anything.” They’ve never met, but Raymond prides himself on his ability to charm any woman he meets. “Just tell me what to do and who to talk to, okay? I’m not asking a lot, just… please?”

“...You really shouldn’t get attached to dreamers,” Walter replies, sighing. “Very well. I’ll draw you up a list of mental health professionals in the area. But you’ll have to do the rest on your own.”

“Thank you, thank you! I owe you a ton!”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Work goes agonizingly slowly, and though Raymond’s habitually late, he makes sure to arrive at the park early. Even so, Russell’s beaten him there, sitting on a park bench and staring into space.

“Hey, kid!” he says with a smile. “And I thought I was making good time. Sorry for making you wait.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t have anywhere else to be,” says Russell, “so I’ve been here for a while.”

That’s… sadly not too surprising. “Mind if I join you?” Raymond asks.

Russell shakes his head, so Raymond sits next to him. For all the hours he spent at work trying to come up with something to say at this meeting, and not doing his actual work, now that the time’s come he’s running dry on words.

What he eventually comes up with is, “Come here often?”

Russell raises an eyebrow at him. “Is that what you say to girls?”

“No - well, sometimes, but that’s not - I don’t talk to teenagers a lot, okay,” Raymond says. “I don’t have any kids, and I don’t have siblings so I’ve never had to deal with nieces and nephews, so I’m way out of practice with the younger generation.”

“You’re only twenty-seven,” Russell points out. “You can’t say things like ‘the younger generation’ yet.”

“Guess that does make me sound pretty old…” Raymond shrugs. “You’re the youngest person they’ve put through the program, so that makes you the youngest person I’ve had to deal with for more than a couple minutes.”

“...Fourteen doesn’t feel that young,” Russell says, looking down. “I feel old.”

“Like you’ve already been through too much?” Raymond asks, and Russell nods. “Can’t blame you there. Somebody your age should still be in school worrying about his grades, not… all that stuff.” There’s no delicate way to refer to child abuse and multiple counts of murder. “You’ve had a rough life.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Russell says. He’s still not looking at Raymond, but his voice is starting to become strained. “Those people who I killed - they didn’t do that to me. It’s not their fault, but I killed them anyway. I...”

“Hey.” Hesitantly, Raymond sets a hand on Russell’s shoulder, and feels him shudder. “You’re gonna be alright, okay? There’s nothing anyone can do that’s so bad that they can’t make up for it, in the big scheme of things.”

“I can’t bring them back,” Russell says. “Even if I feel this bad about it, I can’t ever make it up to them.”

Raymond sighs. “...Yeah, guess you can’t. But dying won’t make it up to them either, y’know?”

Russell is silent for what feels like minutes. “But - but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to keep living. I don’t know how.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“...We?” Russell asks, looking up at him.

“Shoot. You’re pretty sharp.” Raymond rubs the back of his neck. “So… would it be a problem if I talked with your aunt later? Just about some things.”

“...She’s single, but I don’t think she’s looking for anyone right now,” Russell says, completely seriously.

“Not that kind of talking,” Raymond says, and for once in his life entirely means it. “Just some stuff about you, and what you’re doing after this.”

“That’s okay,” Russell says, after a moment. “I don’t mind.”

By the time they’re done talking and Raymond’s walking Russell back to his house, Walter has emailed Raymond a long list of mental health facilities and professionals, including details about each such as options for group therapy, average length of stay for those undergoing inpatient treatment, and their reputations in the field. That Walter gathered this much information in a few hours is frankly amazing to him: what’s more amazing is that he’s included a personal note at the end.

‘If you’re going to do this, you’d better do this right.’

From Walter, it might as well be an outright admission of concern.

Russell notices him checking his phone, and though he doesn’t ask, Raymond tells him anyway: “Just got an email from Walter. He’s worried about you too.”

“Did he actually say that?” Russell asks, wide-eyed.

“Well… practically. With Walter, you’ve gotta read between the lines a little,” Raymond replies. “I bet I can get him to meet up with us sometime if you want to see him again.”

“...That’d be nice, if he wants to,” Russell says, like he isn’t sure he can ask for something as simple as meeting someone he knows again.

“He will,” Raymond says, and prepares to use all his powers of begging to get Walter to come, if necessary. “This is your address, right?”

Russell nods, and pulls out his house key. Once the door’s unlocked and open, he sticks his head in the doorway. “Um - I’m home, is it okay that I brought a friend home?” he calls out.

Friend’s a nice word. It’s even better to hear it from Russell.


End file.
